Al Intiqaam (Revenge)
by Blue Kangaroo
Summary: Season 8 AU fic, starts after the events of episode 16. An old enemy has returned to seek revenge against Jack... but Jack isn't the only target that he has in his sights. Revenge is sweet, but this isn't just a personal vendetta; it's one piece of a larger plan.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Al-Intiqaam (Arabic for "Revenge" or "Vendetta")

**Rating: **T or M, for violence and language

**Disclaimer:** As much as I wish I did, I don't own "24" or its characters!

**Summary:** An old enemy has returned to seek revenge against Jack… but Jack isn't the only target in his sights. He's only one piece of a bigger plan.

Lately, I've been musing over some fiction story plots that could be fanfic material. With the impending return of 24 (May 5, 2014! Eeekk!), and my muse giving me plot ideas again, this seemed like as good of a time as any to write fanfic again! :-)

I wrote the first chapter of this story as a one-shot, shortly after President Omar Hassan's death (episode 16 of season 8), but never posted it. I came across it today, and decided to tweak it and tie it in with the plot of this longer fic. I'm using episode 8x16 as a springboard for an AU story. That means that all of the season 8 events after this episode (including Renee's death, obviously) never took place!

* * *

**Al-Intiqaam**

Chapter 1

Jack leaned his head against the cool glass of the airplane window, studying the terrain below them.

A gentle tap on his shoulder startled him. He turned to see a woman dressed in a neat black skirt and jacket and with a simple scarf draped over her dark hair, standing in the aisle beside his seat. The woman ducked her head apologetically. "I'm sorry; I did not mean to scare you. I just wanted to let you know that we will be landing in ten minutes."

Across the aisle, a few seats ahead of Renee, sat Dalia and Kayla Hassan. Dalia sat mutely in her seat, her eyes swollen and red, twisting a limp and torn Kleenex tissue through her fingers. She nodded silently as the attendant touched her shoulder gently and quietly repeated the message. "May I get anything for you?" she added.

Dalia shook her head. "No, thank you, Karima," she said hoarsely.

Karima moved through the small airplane cabin, pausing to address Renee, President Allison Taylor, and the small group of trusted aides from both administrations who had traveled with them. Jack noticed that the president had tucked a silver pen, the gift from Omar Hassan that Dalia had given her after his death, into the breast pocket of her suit jacket.

Renee sat up straighter in her seat as the plane's wheels touched down on the airport tarmac. "Welcome to Badar, the capital city of the Islamic Republic of Kamistan," the pilot's voice announced, in English for the benefit of their guests. "Welcome home," he added respectfully to the Hassans.

Dalia got to her feet, a polite and gracious hostess, even in her grief. "Welcome to our country," she said, smiling ever so slightly.

Allison Taylor smiled sadly. "I wish it were under much better circumstances."

It was early in the morning in Kamistan, and the sun had just begun to rise over the country. The fiery orange ball of light in the sky was just barely visible over the top of the airplane. Its rays glinted off of the plane's sleek, glossy body as the group of passengers disembarked and gathered on the tarmac, flanked by members of both presidents' security details.

They turned their backs to the members of the media who were hovering nearby.

From somewhere nearby, a muezzin's voice rang out with the first melodic notes of the _Adhan,_ calling the Muslim faithful to prayer. Multiple chanting voices rose from mosques throughout the city, blending together in an overlapping chorus.

It was against this backdrop that Omar Hassan's body was carried out of the airplane's cargo hold.

Silent tears fell down Dalia's cheeks, and her chin quivered as she suppressed a sob. Kayla leaned her head against her mother's shoulder, staring mutely at the white-shrouded box containing her father's body, as it was carefully slid into the back of the van waiting nearby.

As the van slowly drove out of sight, an imposing man stepped up alongside Dalia. He carried a pistol secured in a shoulder holster. He glanced in the direction where the van had departed, and addressed Dalia and the American guests. "President Hassan will be prepared for burial" – Dalia made a choked sound — "and the funeral ceremony will take place this evening."

He motioned towards the waiting caravan of official vehicles. "Come."

**/ / / / /**

Renee adjusted the scarf covering her hair. She and President Taylor had been assured that no one expected them, non-Muslims, to cover their heads, but they had both chosen to out of respect.

The mourners stood solemn and silent. Men lined one side of the grave, and women the other. Omar Hassan's body had been washed, first with water and then with oils and herbs, then wrapped in a shroud of simple white cloth. Now he lay on the ground at the head of the open grave.

Dalia and Kayla knelt and briefly placed their hands on his head and chest, saying a silent goodbye. More tears spilled down Dalia's cheeks as she gripped the shroud's white fabric in her trembling fingers. She drew in a shuddering breath and slowly, painfully, pulled the fabric over her husband's face.

Kayla squeezed her eyes shut. At her side, her left hand reached out ever so slightly. President Taylor was the one who saw it, and she wordlessly took the young woman's trembling hand and clasped it gently.

The imam, wearing a black _shalwar kameez_ and turban, moved to stand by the corpse's shoulder to lead the prayers. Everyone turned to the west, their backs to the shrouded body and the imam. _"Allahu akbar", _his clear, melodic chant rang out. The crowd of Muslim mourners huddled around the grave lifted their hands and repeated the words.

The group recited the prayers in unison, chanting solemnly with one voice. Death was a part of life, and this ritual was a part of death.

Two men stepped forward, one at Hassan's head and the other at his feet. Together, they lifted the shrouded body and gently placed it in the casket that was open and waiting. Two more men joined them and closed the wooden lid of the casket. A stifled cry came from Dalia, and a choked sob from Kayla, as the four men stooped and gently lowered Hassan's casket into the grave. As they did, the imam's voice rang out again. _"Bismillah-i w'ala millat-i rasulillah," _he intoned. _In the name of Allah, and in accordance with the way of His messenger._

With the casket in the grave, the four pallbearers stepped back. The imam knelt at the head of the grave and scooped up a handful of loose dirt in his fingers. _"Minha Khalaqna-kum,"_ he chanted as he sprinkled the dirt over the top of the casket. Picking up another handful, he continued, _"Wa fi-ha nu'idu-kum."_ With the third, he said, _"Wa min-ha nukhriju-kum laat-an ukhra."_

Kayla and Dalia approached the grave and took their turn at the ritual, their voices barely above a whisper.

Everyone else followed, three handfuls of dirt at a time.

As the others had done, Renee chanted the words in Arabic.

Following behind her, President Taylor quietly and solemnly spoke them in English. _"Out of the Earth we created you,"_ she said, sprinkling the first handful over the casket. Picking up the second handful: _"Into it we deposit you now."_ And the third: _"And from it, God shall take you out again."_

The crowd's voice rose as one, in Arabic. _"Peace to you. Allah willing, we will all join you. May Allah forgive you and have mercy on you, and on all of us."_

"_Allahu akbar."_

With that, the body of Omar Hassan was solemnly committed to the earth, and the ceremony concluded.

As the mourners filed away from the grave, the group of visiting American officials gathered around Dalia and Kayla. Formalities aside, President Taylor reached for Dalia and drew her into a comforting hug, as Renee did the same for Kayla.

"I am so sorry," she whispered.

Dalia shook her head. "Do not apologize," she said, addressing both Renee and Jack. "You did everything that you could to try to save him."

A member of her security team, carrying a short-barreled tactical rifle slung across his chest, spoke up. He was facing Dalia and directly addressing her, but the words were intended for everyone else as well. "You know that the IRK has been involved in conflicts in this region for decades. This treaty was a fragile one, at best. Remember that not everyone in this country loved and supported your husband. Some may see his death as an opportunity to – "

Dalia held up a hand to stop him. "Please," she said quietly. "I trust you all; we always have. We are in capable hands. Do what you think is best. Forgive me, but I can't think about any of that now. You understand, yes? Let us just get through the rest of today."

"Of course, Mrs. Hassan. I understand." The man nodded sympathetically.

He turned to address their American guests. "For now, arrangements have been made for you at the Hassans' residence here in Badar. You all are honored guests here, welcome in our country," he said.

"Thank you," Jack told him. "I wish it were under much better circumstances."

"As do I," the man agreed sadly.

"Come. Let's go."

.

_More to come soon, hopefully! Working on the next chapter(s) now!_

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	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"_Allahu akbar! Allahu akbar! Ash-hadu an laa ilaha il-Allah! Ash-hadu an Muhammad un rasoul Allah! Hayya 'alas-Salah! Hayya 'alas-Salah!"_

The light of the rising sun, filtering in through the open window, was accompanied by the haunting melody of a muezzin calling the Muslim faithful to early morning prayer from a nearby mosque.

Renee opened her eyes, blinking in the soft orange glow that filled the bedroom.

She stretched lazily, relishing the cozy comfort of the thick, cushioned mattress and soft blankets.

Surveying her surroundings, she saw that Jack's side of the large bed was vacant and neatly made, and his clothes were no longer folded on the chair across the room. Sighing, she slid out of bed, pulled up and straightened the covers on her side, and reached for her clothes to get dressed.

The door knob turned easily in her hand, and the door opened without a sound. As Renee stepped out into the hallway, she was met by an olive-skinned man with a friendly smile. _"Sabah al-khair,"_ she greeted him in Arabic.

His smile widened. _"Sabah al-noor,"_ he replied, then switched to nearly flawless English. "My name is Nouri. Good morning, Agent Walker. Did you sleep well?" She nodded. "Good. There are some things set out for you all for breakfast, down the hallway there. Agent Bauer is there."

"Wonderful. Thank you."

She found Jack sitting at the long table, cradling a steaming cup of coffee. The table was spread with various breakfast foods; Renee saw scrambled eggs, bagels, and fresh fruit, along with the more traditional Middle Eastern offerings of yogurt, warm pita flatbread, pastries, olives, hummus, _labneh_, and honey. A pot of thick and rich _qahwa _coffee, a carafe of orange juice, and a silver kettle of tea were also present.

Jack turned as he heard her approaching. "Morning."

"Good morning." Renee made a beeline for the teapot and poured herself a steaming cup. She added a small spoonful of honey and took an experimental sip. _Perfect._ The tea was hot and strong, flavored with hints of mint and honey. "Ahh. Thank goodness for caffeine. God, I hate jet lag." She fixed a small plate with some of the breakfast offerings, and sat down at the table across from him.

Nouri stepped into the room. "Mrs. Hassan and Kayla went to the cemetery to spend some time there, and President Taylor is with them. The few others are still asleep."

He swept his hand in a wide arc, indicating the entirety of the Hassans' massive sprawling property. "You are guests here; please make yourselves welcome. This is a very unfortunate occasion, but it does not have to be miserable. President Hassan was very proud of this nation, and would be honored to share it with you. If you need fresh air, feel free to take it. There are horses if you would like to ride. I could arrange for you to get out and see more of the city, go shopping in the bazaar in the Old Quarter, see the mosques. Or, considering who you are and your background," he added with a smile, "maybe you would like to make use of these." He gestured to the pistol in his shoulder holster. "The security team has a variety of weapons – rifles, handguns, explosive ordnance. You are welcome to try some of them."

Renee chuckled. "Time on the shooting range with the president of Kamistan's security detail. That sounds like a very appealing idea." She sipped her tea. "I've been all over the Middle East, but this is my first time in Kamistan. I would love to go out and explore some." Jack nodded in agreement.

Nouri nodded. "Then, indeed, you shall. As I said, President Hassan loved this country, and he would have been honored to introduce you to it. I will find some of the security detail to escort you."

When Nouri returned to Jack and Renee, he was followed by four agents from the Hassans' security team. To both Jack and Renee's surprise, one of them was a woman. She was tall and slender, and carried a Beretta 92 pistol tucked comfortably into the holster at her hip.

Nouri pointed to each of them in turn. "These are Adnan, Hakim, Yousif, and Laila. They will escort you today."

Jack and Renee nodded and smiled. "Thank you."

Laila returned Renee's smile. "It's our pleasure. Welcome to Kamistan."

Two gray SUV's were waiting outside. Yousif and Laila opened the back doors of the first one and ushered Jack and Renee into the backseat. Laila climbed into the front passenger seat, and Yousif opened the driver's door and slid behind the wheel. That left Adnan and Hakim to occupy the second vehicle behind them.

This was a nation in mourning, as evidenced by the solemn behavior, women dressed in dark clothes, and black flags fluttering from sign posts and storefronts. Nevertheless, even with the somber and sad undertone, daily life went on.

Street musicians and performers, vendors hawking their wares, honking car horns, and voices from the crowds of people, all blended together in a chaotic swirl of colors, smells, and sounds.

As the six of them made their way through the streets on foot, two men in the crowd slowed their pace and fell back, melting into the hustle and bustle, unnoticed.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **Jack and Renee's exploration of Kamistan in this chapter is based off of some of the places that I saw and visited during my time in the Middle East (Gaza, Israel, Jordan, and Iraqi Kurdistan) in 2010 and 2011. Including the radio station with interesting music offerings - in particular, the English/Arabic rap/dance mix of "Cotton Eyed Joe"! If I could have gotten copies of that song and some of the others, they would have been my travel theme songs for those trips! :-)

Here's another chapter!

Chapter 3

Jack and Renee found that the four security agents were excellent tour guides, and seemed to enjoy the experience as much as their guests did.

Renee tucked her hand into Jack's and walked arm in arm with him as they wandered through the narrow alleyways and cobblestone streets in the "Old Quarter" area of Badar.

They lost all track of time as their guides led them through the city, including two of the massive and beautiful mosques.

As they passed a vendor selling falafel from a streetside stand, Jack's stomach growled. Laila laughed. _"Hal anta jaw'aan?"_ she asked him in Arabic, smiling. "Are you hungry?"

"I am," Renee spoke up, raising her hand.

"It's lunch time. Let's find something to eat. I know where you can get some of the best _shawarma _wraps and chicken kebabs in all of Badar."

Standing in front of a vendor's stall, as Renee counted out the money to pay for her meal, she felt Laila stiffen uneasily next to her. The vendor handed her a plate laden with steaming rice, a piece of pita, and grilled chicken kebabs. _"Shukran,"_ Renee told him with a smile, gratefully taking the plate. The woman's head turned as she peered into the crowd. _"Madha?"_ Renee asked her quietly. "What?"

Laila shook her head. "Nothing. For a moment, it looked like that man there…. Never mind. It is nothing."

She picked up the plate that the man handed her, and motioned to a low concrete wall nearby. "Come and sit."

Adnan sat down alongside Jack on the low wall. "Where would you like to go next? There is a _souq_ nearby. Would you like to see it?"

Jack and Renee both nodded. Jack remembered the open-air markets that he had patrolled during his Army deployments to Afghanistan and Iraq. "Sure. Maybe I'll find some things to bring home for Kim and Teri."

"All right. We will go when you are finished eating."

Jack took another bite of one of the chicken kebabs. "You were right, Laila. This is delicious." Renee nodded her agreement as she scooped up a spoonful of rice from the plate that the two of them were sharing.

When the group had finished their meals, Yousif and Laila collected their trash and discarded it. Then, with Adnan leading the way, they headed off towards the marketplace.

**/ / / / /**

A man seated at a table in front of one of the shops pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialed a number.

"_Na'am?"_ the voice on the other end answered curtly.

"_Al Ameriki'ina wa'saluu," _he said simply. _The Americans are here. _"I've been following them."

"Good. And are you still? You're sure you haven't been spotted?"

"Yes. I'm out of sight. Now they're heading towards the _souq _on Al Maqriyah street."

"Ah, perfect. Keep following them. Don't lose them. And keep me updated." With that, the call ended and the line went dead.

**/ / / / /**

As they parked the cars and walked down the street, Laila pointed to the large open-air marketplace that was just ahead. "There, see?"

A band of musicians were playing instruments, filling the air with the sounds of traditional Arab music. Renee's fingers tapped the beat on her leg, keeping time with the infectious upbeat rhythm of the _tabla_ drummer.

A group of young boys darted past them, laughing and shouting as they ran. Yousif caught Renee's arm as one of the boys collided with her, making her trip. "Are you all right?" he asked as the boy, startled and wide-eyed, rushed off to join his friends.

She nodded. "Perfectly fine. No harm done."

Jack and Renee let their guides lead them through the maze of stalls. Colorful fabric canopies were draped over the wide aisles to provide some relief from the sun. Vendors had set up rows of stalls, selling everything from fruits and vegetables to hand-woven carpets.

Renee stopped to admire a pale blue scarf. The vendor immediately latched on to her as an American tourist, perfect for a potential sale. His eyes widened in surprise as she frowned at the price that he named and skillfully began bartering with him.

"Very good, _Ameriki,"_ he said in English, laughing, as they came to an agreement at last. Renee smiled back as she paid him, picked up the scarf, and walked on.

They passed tables filled with food, shimmering gold jewelry, stacks of hand-woven baskets, colorful clothes, scarves in every color of the rainbow, and countless other items.

Jack picked out an elegant dark blue embroidered scarf and a silver bracelet for Kim, a small carved wooden horse statue and a miniature-sword letter opener for Stephen, and a red scarf and a small handmade doll for Teri.

Finally, they reached the other end of the bazaar and found themselves standing in front of a busy main road again. Yousif glanced at the position of the sun overhead. "If you are ready, we should probably go back soon," he said. "We've been out for quite a while."

No one disagreed, so they began making their way back through the streets to their cars. This time, Laila and Adnan rode with Jack and Renee, and Yousif and Hakim followed behind them in the second car.

"Thank you all," Renee said with a smile as they climbed into the two vehicles. "This was wonderful. You were excellent tour guides."

Hakim returned her smile. "It was our pleasure. I am glad you enjoyed yourselves. We did, too."

Adnan fiddled with the radio dial as Laila drove, and settled on a station that was playing an interesting random mixture of popular modern Arabic songs, traditional Arabic music, and current top hits in English. "Cultural field trip and time travel, all in one station," Renee said with a chuckle.

Both she and Jack were unable to contain their laughter when an older Arabic song by Um Kalthoum ended, and the next song to come on was a version of the country song "Cotton-Eyed Joe" made into a dance mix interspersed with Arabic rap. Grinning, and clearly pleased at their amusement, Adnan turned up the volume.

The laughter stopped abruptly as both Adnan and Laila yelled in alarm.

Laila cursed as she slammed on the brakes, trying to avoid the white pickup truck that was suddenly speeding towards them. Behind them, tires screeched as Yousif and Hakim's SUV swerved.

In a green plastic trash can on the curb, an improvised explosive device had been hastily but skillfully constructed from a worn canvas bag, blocks of plastic explosive, a series of wires, and a duct-taped cellular phone that was just waiting for a call.

Seconds later, that call came and the phone began to ring. The explosion obliterated the trash can, turning a few melted molten plastic shards into flaming airborne projectiles.

The force of the blast's concussive shockwave, and accompanying fireball, violently rocked the lead SUV. It teetered precariously on two wheels, coming dangerously close to tipping over, before crashing back down onto all four wheels again. Inside the vehicle; Adnan, Laila, Jack, and Renee were flung about like rag dolls. Adnan's head snapped forward, then back. He was dead even before his body had fully fallen back against the seat again. Laila managed to yank her pistol out of its holster, but it flew out of her hand and slid out of reach on the floor as she pitched forward in her seat. Her head glanced off of the driver's door window, and blood began to trickle from the gash on her temple.

In the next instant, three vehicles collided in an explosion of metal and glass. The lead SUV was struck from two sides at once, as Yousif and Hakim plowed into them from the rear, and the white pickup truck slammed full-speed into their right side and T-boned them.

Yousif groped frantically for his radio. _"Mayday!" _he yelled in Arabic. _"We are under attack!"_ He didn't have a chance to say any more. The pickup truck's doors flew open, and three masked men leaped onto the pavement, gripping AK-47 rifles. Gunshots erupted, and shell casings and glass shards flew, as they swarmed over the two incapacitated SUV's and opened fire.

_**TBC….**_


	4. Chapter 4

The character of Jamie in this chapter is based off of a friend of mine.

Jamie L. proudly served in the United States military, and then served his community as a firefighter and a paramedic, before an injury forced him to stop working.

He was known for his kindness and willingness to help anyone and everyone, and the guidance, wisdom, and advice that he offered to fellow medical personnel and students. He was also known for his sarcasm and a wicked, mischievous sense of humor that made us laugh until we cried! :-)

(Since June 2007, I've been a civilian role player for training exercises for police, the military, EMS, and search & rescue teams. More than once, we were (gently and teasingly) scolded for breaking character and being unable to stop laughing during a scenario, after something that Jamie said!)

After a short illness, he passed away very suddenly on January 26, 2014. He was only 32 years old, and left behind a fiancé and an 8-year-old son.

When I was trying to think of a name for the soldier caring for Jack in this chapter, _Jamie _was what came to mind. I thought it seemed like a fitting tribute.

..

Chapter 4

"Jack? Agent Bauer? Can you hear me?" The voice was quiet, but insistent. "Are you with me?"

"Wha...?" His head pounded, and his eyelids felt like they had been sealed closed with glue. He managed to force his left eye open the slightest bit, but immediately groaned and squeezed it shut again. "The light... my eyes... can you...?"

"Sure." There was a quiet click. "There, I dimmed the overhead light. Is that better? Can you open your eyes for me?" Slowly, with effort, Jack opened his eyes and blinked. "Ah, there you go. They told me that you opened your eyes once or twice on the helicopter, but were pretty out of it. Think you can keep them open for me?"

A face appeared in Jack's line of vision, hovering above him. The face belonged to a man who Jack guessed to be in his early thirties. His dark blond hair was cropped close to his head in a military style haircut, and he wore desert camouflage fatigues, with a red cross patch on his shoulder sleeve and a stethoscope looped around his neck.

"Where... am I?"

"My name is Jamie. You're in the hospital on Balad base."

"Balad... in Iraq?"

"Yep, that's right. It's only about an hour and a half flight from Badar in Kamistan to here. Welcome to Joint Base Balad in Iraq."

"How did I get here?"

"You were apparently ambushed in Kamistan," Jamie told him grimly. "It seemed safer to get you out of the country, so you were flown out and brought here to Balad."

Jack frowned. There was something to remember, something important... but his head hurt too much to think clearly. He briefly closed his eyes. The pounding in his head was getting more intense. Come to think of it... _everything_ hurt.

"Are you in pain, Jack?"

"Mmm," he muttered. "Yeah."

"What hurts?"

"Everything," Jack replied.

Jamie smiled slightly. "Yeah, I'll bet. Is there anything in particular that's bothering you, though?"

Jack concentrated, trying to sort out the different painful parts of his body. "Right side. And my head."

"Do you have any pain in your neck? Or numbness or tingling in your neck, back, or legs?"

"No numbness. Everything hurts."

Jamie gently ran his fingers along the bottom of Jack's bare foot. "Can you feel that?"

"I feel it."

"Very good." He held out his hand. "Can you lift your arm and squeeze my fingers?" Jack obeyed, lifting his left arm, reaching for Jamie's hand, and feebly clasping his fingers.

Jamie pulled a small penlight from his pocket. "I need to take a look at your eyes. I'm just going to use my little flashlight here."

He gently lifted Jack's right eyelid and briefly flashed the light into his eye. Jack immediately flinched and recoiled. Jamie repeated the process with his left eye, and Jack's reaction was the same. With the rigid cervical collar bracing his neck, he was unable to move his head to pull away. He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning. "Please... stop..."

"Okay, okay, I'm all finished. Sorry about that." Jamie replaced the light in his pocket, and reached towards the C-collar. "Your x-ray and CT images didn't show any evidence of spinal trauma. You have some whiplash, but you don't seem to have any significant neck or spinal injuries, so I'm going to go ahead and take this off for you." As gently as possible, trying his hardest not to jostle Jack's already-hurting head, he unstrapped the hard C-collar and pulled it off.

Jack gritted his teeth against the agonizing pounding in his skull. Jamie noticed the fine sheen of sweat breaking out on his face. "Here, let me go get you something else for the pain."

"Feel sick," Jack managed as his eyes flew open suddenly. He lurched upright awkwardly, his face gray and eyes wide.

Jamie lunged to his side, reaching him just in time, and held a pink plastic basin under his chin as Jack retched and vomited.

Finally, he fell back against the pillows, trembling.

"Think you're done?" Jamie asked calmly.

"Yeah," Jack rasped. "I think so... for now..."

"Okay. Hang in there for a minute. I'm going to go get rid of this, and get some meds for you." Jamie left the room with the offending plastic receptacle.

He returned a few minutes later with the now-clean basin and two syringes. Jack was lying still, his eyes closed and breathing ragged. "Hey, Jack, you still with me?"

"Yeah," he bit out, not opening his eyes. "Hurts..."

"I know, I know. Just hang on. Are you allergic to any medications?" Jamie asked. Jack silently shook his head no. "Good. I've got a little something here to help you out."

Jamie prepped the first syringe. Jack's eyes fluttered open to watch him. "Easy," Jamie soothed. "This isn't a needle; I'm not going to stick you. The team on the chopper placed an intravenous line, an IV, in your left arm. I'm going to push these through there."

He picked up Jack's uninjured left arm and screwed the hollow-tipped syringe into the port on his IV line. Jack flinched ever so slightly as he felt the liquid enter his bloodstream. "I know, it's a little cold. Sorry," Jamie said calmly. "There's something to help you with the pain." He picked up the second syringe and smoothly injected its contents into the IV tubing. "And that will help with the nausea and vomiting."

"Thank you." Jack's ragged breathing eased slightly.

"No problem. That will kick in soon, and hopefully you'll feel a little better." Jamie discarded the two syringes.

"Now, let me tell you what all you have going on here, okay? I'll start from the top and work down." He cupped Jack's chin in his gloved hands and gently examined his face. "It looks like your face got in a fight with the pavement, and I think it's safe to say that the pavement won that round," Jamie told him with a wry smile. "You've got some nice scrapes and abrasions here. There's some bruising on your forehead and the right side of your face, your pupils are uneven, and it looks like you're having some trouble tracking and focusing your eyes. All of that, combined with your sleepiness and your headache, tells me that you have some head trauma. A concussion."

Jack tried to nod, but winced and grimaced at the movement.

Jamie continued. "It looks like your right side took most of the hit. Your right shoulder was dislocated, and both your radius and ulna are fractured. Those are the two long bones in your forearm between your elbow and wrist, here and here," he added, pointing to his own arm. "We reduced and relocated your shoulder, and set and casted your arm, while you were still out. That's why you have the sling."

Jack glanced down at the white hard cast encasing his right arm from elbow to fingers, and the black sling that cradled the arm against his torso, as though he had just noticed them both for the first time.

"Your ribs are badly bruised, but nothing's broken, just very sore. Your legs ended up pinned under the car seat in front of you, so you have a lot of bruises and cuts, including two on your left shin that I had to place a few stitches in. I'm honestly surprised, but you don't have any broken bones in either leg. You have a lot of really deep bruising, though, and probably more than a few pulled or strained muscles. With your head injury, you're not going to feel like moving around for a while. Once you're clear and able to move, you'll be stiff and very sore, so you'll need to take it slowly and carefully for a little while."

Jamie studied him. "That's a lot of info that I just gave you. You still with me? Do you understand what I told you?"

Jack nodded ever so slightly, being careful not to move his aching head too much. "Where am I?" he asked again, his eyes scanning the small room.

"You're in the hospital at Joint Base Balad, in Iraq," Jamie repeated patiently.

"What happened? How did I get here?"

"You were ambushed in Kamistan," Jamie said. "One of the members of the security team managed to send out a mayday call before he was killed. When help got there, they found you unconscious in the vehicle. You had been shielded and cushioned by the bodies of the other agents. The attack appeared to be well-coordinated. The powers that be decided it was better safe than sorry, and it seemed like a good idea to get you out of the country completely, so you were flown out of Kamistan and brought here to Balad. The flight from Badar in Kamistan to here is only about an hour and a half."

The word _bodies_ triggered a thought in Jack's mind. "The other agents with me. Where are they? How are they?"

Jamie hesitated. "Your attackers were armed, and they shot up both vehicles heavily with what looks like AK-47's. The two men in the car behind you were both killed; one died on impact in the crash, and the other was shot several times. The man in the car with you was killed. He broke his neck in the crash, and it looks like they shot his body at least twice. The woman is alive, so she was flown here on the chopper with you. She has a number of injuries, including multiple gunshot wounds. She's in critical condition; it doesn't look good."

Jack's heart pounded. _Female agent..._ "Which one?" he asked hoarsely. "What about Agent Walker?"

Jamie's brow furrowed. "Who?"

"Renee Walker," Jack repeated. "You said one female agent is alive. Which one? What about Renee? Where is she?"

Jamie frowned and shook his head. "I don't know what you mean. There was only one woman in the car with you. Laila Khouri."

"No!" Jack insisted. "There were two. Laila was there, yes, and so was Renee. Agent Renee Walker. She was in the back with me. Where is she? Is she alive?"

"Jack, listen to me. I don't know who you're talking about. One of Hassan's security agents managed to send out a mayday call before he was killed. When the team responded, they found you unconscious in the back seat. There were two agents in the car with you, one man and one woman. The only female agent there was Laila Khouri. She's here. No sign of anyone named Renee Walker."

Jack stared at him. "What do you mean?" He clutched Jamie's sleeve, pulling the man closer to him. "I swear to God, I'm not making this up. It's not some effect of the concussion. There were four agents in that car. Laila, Adnan, me, and Renee. She's my partner and my..." He stopped, thinking of the feeling of Renee's body curled comfortably against his in bed, trying to think of a meaningful enough word to describe what she meant to him. _My girlfriend_ wasn't right, and _my very good friend_ wasn't enough.

"Oh, God, are you telling me that Renee is missing?"

Jamie nodded slowly, concerned. "It looks like it," he said worriedly. "There was no one else there." He took a half step backwards as Jack abruptly tried to sit up. "Whoa! What are you doing?"

Jack suddenly felt hot and cold all over, and his stomach churned. The room spun nauseatingly. "Sick again," he managed to choke out.

Jamie snatched up the emesis basin and held it in front of him again. "Here, then, use this. You don't need to go anywhere."

"I can't be sick now," Jack said hoarsely, weakly trying to push himself upright. "Renee is out there somewhere... someone ambushed us and took her, and we don't know who or why... you're telling me that you don't know where the hell she is..." He managed to roll to the edge of the bed, and tried to swing one leg onto the floor.

"Well, you're definitely not going to go sprinting out of here to look for her," Jamie said firmly, pushing Jack backwards with a palm in the middle of his chest.

The movement was too much. Jack's head whirled, the room seemed to tilt abruptly, and his stomach lurched violently. This time, there was no basin to catch the mess. Bitter bile surged up his throat, and he vomited over the bed sheets, his front, and the tile floor.

_"Shit!"_ he gasped, pounding his uninjured fist against the mattress. He clumsily and angrily swiped at the hot tears that were filling his eyes.

"Jack, look at me." Jamie gripped his good shoulder and crouched down, bringing his face directly in front of Jack's. "Look at me. Listen. From one soldier to another. Now that you told me about Renee, now that we know she's out there somewhere, we'll look for her. She won't get left behind. You have my word," he said seriously. "But you are not going anywhere. The concussion and your injuries are what are making you feel so weak. Rest, sleep, and meds are the only way to fix that. You need to rest so you can heal. So you can see Renee and introduce her to me," he said with a slight smile.

Jamie picked up another syringe from the bedside table. "I'm going to give you a very mild sedative. It'll help you relax so you can rest," he said gently. "Will you let me do that?" Jack bit his lip and nodded, reluctantly. "Okay. Here you go." Jamie eased the syringe into his IV line and administered the medication. He made eye contact with Jack as he took the empty syringe. "I am going to leave this room right now and go tell someone what you told me. We'll get you and the bed changed, clean up all this mess. And we'll put our heads together and figure out how to look for Renee."

The drug was already beginning to work in Jack's system. Jamie gently eased him down onto the side of the bed that wasn't splattered with vomit. Jack's eyelids drooped, and he reluctantly surrendered to the darkness.

_Renee._ Her face wavered before him, and he whispered her name before slipping into oblivion again.

..

_To be continued… More coming soon!_


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you for the reviews so far! I really appreciate getting reviews on my work. I'm so glad that people are enjoying the story so far. Here's another chapter for you!

..

Chapter 5

Renee woke to the sound of muffled voices. Gradually, she realized two things: the voices were male, and they were speaking Arabic. They were hollow, echoing, distorted by the persistent ringing in her ears, and she was too dazed to bother trying to decipher what they were saying.

Something apparently alerted them to the fact that she was conscious. She wasn't sure if she had moved or made a sound, but regardless of the cause, their attention was now focused on her.

Someone's foot prodded her stomach. Not a harsh blow, but not a gentle nudge either. Renee instinctively shifted, trying to roll onto her side.

She heard shuffling footsteps, and suddenly there were several pairs of hands tugging at her arms. A stifled groan escaped her lips as they hauled her upright into an awkward sitting position. "What….? Who….?"

In the next instant, fire erupted on her back as something tore into her flesh. Her quiet groan became a sharp, startled cry of pain.

There was a cracking sound, immediately followed by another fiery burst of pain.

Renee clenched her jaw, forcing herself to remain stoic and silent, as they flogged her brutally. Silent tears streamed down her cheeks, stinging the cuts on her face, but she refused to cry out again. The whip lashed across her back again and again, tearing at her skin and drawing blood. She lay limp and motionless, feeling the warm stickiness of blood dripping down her back, waiting for the beating to come to an end.

Finally, the whip stilled and fell.

She kept her eyes closed, unwilling to look at her tormentors, as they shoved her onto her side. Hands roamed greedily over her body, pulling at her clothes, groping. She knew perfectly well what their intentions were, and the thought made her nauseous, but she was too weak to resist.

Hot tears covered Renee's face, pooling on the floor underneath her.

**/ / / / /**

Her back was on fire. The slightest movement brought an explosion of pain, as the torn fabric of her shirt rubbed against the shredded, bleeding skin. She swallowed a scream, but was unable to hold back a moan.

Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes, hyper-vigilant and alert for any sign that her tormenters were waiting to pounce on her again. This time, there was no response. She blinked a few times and carefully turned her head.

A man was standing in the corner, leaning against the wall, watching her.

Renee licked her lips. _"Min anta?" _she asked hoarsely. "Who are you?"

"You're alive," he said curtly in English. "Good. My name is Khalid."

"Where am I?"

He didn't answer that. "Are you thirsty?" Without waiting for her to answer, he crouched down next to her. Renee flinched. Khalid lifted her head and held a cup to her lips. "Here, drink." He pulled the cup back slightly, spilling some of the tepid water down her front, as Renee took a greedy gulp. "Slowly, or you'll be sick." His tone told her that the warning was more for his benefit than hers – he wasn't concerned about her comfort; he just didn't want to clean up the mess.

Too soon, the cup was empty. It was enough to provide some relief, but not enough to completely quench her thirst. _"Shukran k'tir,"_ she said gratefully in Arabic. "Thank you very much." He nodded, stood, and retreated back against the wall again, placing the cup on the floor by the door.

Renee shifted position. Her battered body shrieked a painful protest, and she drew in a sharp breath, biting her lip. "They whipped you," Khalid informed her, as though she didn't already know.

Her clothes were still on her body, but were so badly torn that they were hardly providing adequate cover. Renee awkwardly tried to cover herself with her hands. She noticed the dark bruises on her upper thighs, the streaks of dried blood on her legs, and a dull ache in her lower abdomen. "Did they… was I…?" She couldn't bring herself to say the word, in either English or Arabic. _Ightisab. _Rape.

_"Laa." _Khalid shook his head no. "I stopped them before it came to that."

"Thank you," she said quietly, relieved.

"Don't thank me," he snapped curtly. "I should have kept quiet and let them have you. I didn't do you any favors. It will be worse later."

Renee glanced around the small room, taking in the cracked concrete floor and grimy walls. "Where am I? What do you want with me?"

_"I _don't," he informed her. "I had nothing to do with this. I'm not the one in charge. They told me to watch you, so I am."

"Well, who _is_ in charge? What do they want? Why am I here?"

"Ask Sayid," he said, turning towards the door.

"Who's Sayid? Where are you going?"

"To get him," Khalid answered, stepping through the door and quickly closing it behind him.

A few minutes later, Renee heard footsteps in the hallway. The door swung open again, and a tall and imposing man stepped into the room. There was no sign of Khalid. The man was dressed in a black _shalwar kameez, _the comfortable outfit of a loose tunic shirt and pajama-like trousers that was worn by many people in the Middle East, and an olive-green _khaffiyeh_ scarf was wrapped loosely around his neck. His dark hair was slightly unruly, but his beard was neatly trimmed. His steely gaze swept over Renee. "Hello, Agent Walker," he said in English.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

"My name is Ahmad Hani Sayid," he informed her.

"Where am I? Why am I here?"

"You're in Taji," he said.

Renee's heart skipped a beat. "Taji, or Tajar?" she asked hesitantly. Tajar was in Kamistan, two hours away from Badar. Taji was nearly six hours away, across the border in Iraq.

"Taji," he repeated. "Taji, Iraq."

"Iraq?" Renee repeated, barely above a whisper. How in the world would anyone find her now? She had been taken across the border into an entirely different country. They wouldn't even know where to begin looking.

Sayid's lips curved in a slight smile, knowing what she was thinking. "Yes, you're in Iraq. Welcome to my country."

"Some welcome," Renee spat. Angry tears welled in her eyes. "We were ambushed, I don't know how the hell I got here, and your thugs beat me and tried to rape me, for God's sake." She was trembling. "What do you want?"

"Temper," Sayid mocked. "It wasn't hard at all to find you. The media covered President Hassan's return to Kamistan, and clearly showed you and Jack Bauer in the group of Americans who came to pay their respects, so we knew you were here. From there, it was a matter of putting resourceful people in the right places, tracking you down, and waiting for the trap to spring. And it did."

"So you and your people are the ones responsible for that ambush in Badar," Renee said. "Where is the rest of our team? Where's Jack?" She tried to keep her voice from cracking at the mention of Jack's name. "What did you do to them?"

"The four security agents are dead," Sayid informed her coolly. "As for Agent Bauer, they left him alive. At least, those were their instructions. I hope they did. His death would definitely complicate matters."

He pulled something from his pocket, and tossed it towards her. Cautiously, Renee picked up the folded piece of paper. It was a photograph of two young Middle Eastern children, one boy and one girl, sitting on the lap of a woman who Renee assumed was their mother. "That, Agent Walker, is my brother's family," Sayid said. "His wife and children."

"They're beautiful," Renee said quietly.

"Indeed," Sayid agreed. His tone hardened. "They also are fatherless, thanks to Agent Bauer. He was the one responsible for murdering Malik, taking my brother from me, leaving his wife a widow and his children without their father."

"I'm so sorry for their loss," Renee told him earnestly. She looked at the photo, then up at Sayid. "But what does that have to do with me?"

He crouched down in front of her. "It's quite simple, really. You and Agent Bauer mean a great deal to one another. You love him, he loves you. It's not hard to see that. Malik meant a lot to the people who loved him, as well. So, since Agent Bauer took someone important from us, let's just say that I am now returning the favor."

"So you're going to kill me, then?" It was more of a statement than a question, and this time Renee was unable to keep her voice from trembling slightly.

Sayid smiled. The expression sent a chill of fear coursing through Renee's body. "Yes. Not so fast, not right away. But yes. You both will pay for his crimes."

He stood over her, looking silently at her for a few moments. Then, abruptly, he turned and left, pulling the door closed behind him. A lock clicked. Footsteps faded away, and then there was only silence.

Renee lay in the middle of the floor on her stomach, unwilling to move. Eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep.

..

_To be continued..._

_._


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The sound of metal scraping on concrete as the door opened made Renee lift her head. She slowly sat up, groaning in pain. A curse word in English escaped from between her clenched teeth. It wasn't sufficient, and neither were the others that came to mind. She added a few in Arabic.

Sayid chuckled. "Impressive Arabic vocabulary," he said, amused. "Are you in pain?"

Renee glared at him. _"Ibn al sharmouta,"_ she snapped.

Sayid clicked his tongue. "Such language. You certainly have a temper."

"Forgive me for not being polite and sociable," Renee said grimly. "But you see…" She swept her right arm in a gesture that included the grimy room and her battered body. _Careful, _she thought. _Don't antagonize him too much. _She angled her head to look up at him. "What do you want?"

Sayid pulled a cell phone from his jacket pocket and dialed a number. "It's time to make a phone call."

**/ / / / /**

Jack opened his eyes, startled, as he sensed someone standing over him. "It's me. Sorry," Jamie apologized. "I was trying not to wake you up."

"Former Special Forces and federal agent. I'm a light sleeper," Jack replied.

Jamie chuckled. "We all are. You learn to sleep anywhere and anytime, and usually with one eye open. How are you feeling?"

"Sort of like I got hit by a truck."

"Well, you did, remember?" Jamie smiled as Jack acknowledged his attempt at humor with a slight laugh. "Seriously, now, how are you?"

"Tired."

"That's normal," Jamie said, nodding. "You'll feel dizzy and very drowsy for a while." He glanced at the clock. "You're due for another dose of pain meds soon. How's the pain? Nausea?"

Jack shrugged. "Under control. Comfortable enough." He met Jamie's gaze. "How is Laila? Is she…?"

"Alive," Jamie confirmed. "Unconscious. She's still critical, and it's really too soon to say whether or not she'll pull through. But for now, she's alive."

"And Renee?" Jamie could plainly hear and see the desperation in Jack's voice and face. "Anything?"

Jamie shook his head grimly. "Nothing yet. I'm sorry."

He was interrupted as another soldier hurried into the room, looking startled. "It's good to see you awake, Agent Bauer," the man said in greeting. He held up a plastic bag containing a satellite phone. "This is yours; it was in your pocket when you were brought in. I don't know what to do… it just started ringing."

Both Jack and Jamie stared at the phone in surprise. The screen was badly cracked, and there was a small streak of dried blood on the keypad, but they could clearly hear it ringing.

_Who could be calling?_

"Give it to me," Jack said urgently, reaching for the phone. "Please." The soldier extracted it from the bag. Jack all but snatched it from his hand, fumbling and nearly dropping it as he brought it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Is this Jack Bauer?"

The voice was unfamiliar. Male, speaking English, with an accent from somewhere in the Middle East. "Who is this?" Jack demanded. "How did you get this number?"

"Ah, Agent Bauer, you are alive. Good. My name is Ahmad Hani Sayid."

Jack gripped the phone tighter. "How did you get this number?"

"I am resourceful, and I work with resourceful and creative people. It wasn't hard."

Jamie was watching Jack carefully. "Speaker?" he mouthed silently, motioning to the phone. Jack pressed the button and carefully sat the phone down on the bed.

"I've waited a long time for this moment," the man said. "You don't sound like what I expected."

All three of them looked at the phone. "Who the hell are you?" Jack asked sharply. "What do you want?"

"I'll get to the point quickly." The phone beeped. "I've sent you a picture. Open it." Both Jamie and Jack leaned over to peer at the phone's small screen, studying the image of a Middle Eastern woman with two young children in her lap. "That is my brother's family, Agent Bauer. I want to know how you feel about leaving them fatherless."

"What? I-I don't…."

"December 2006 in Ramadi, Iraq," Sayid said coldly. "His name is Malik. Do you remember now? You, Agent Bauer, were the one who killed him. You left his wife a widow and his children without their father."

Jack nodded. "Yes. I remember." He ran a hand over his face. "I'm a counter-terrorism agent for the United States government, Mr. Sayid. Eliminating threats against our people is what I do. 2006 and 2007 were the deadliest years for the American military in Iraq. Your brother Malik was directly responsible for at least some of those deaths. My goal was to prevent more innocent people from losing their lives."

"Very noble of you," Sayid said. "But the fact is you did still leave a family grieving and fatherless."

"It wasn't my intention to hurt his family. I'm truly sorry for that," Jack said earnestly. His tone hardened. "But I killed Malik to prevent more Americans from losing their lives. That was _his_ doing. His family suffers because of _his_ actions."

"Say what you want. I can see that you're deluding yourself about the role that you played in this. I should have expected that."

Jack's jaw clenched. "What do you want with me?"

The phone beeped. Jack leaned over to study the image that had appeared on the screen, and his blood ran cold. It was a picture of Renee. She was sitting in a nondescript room, huddled on a concrete floor. Her jaw was bruised, one eye was puffy and swollen, and there was dried blood on her lower lip. Her clothes were torn, and the back of her shirt was shredded and streaked with blood. Jack could see what looked like deep bloody welts from a whip crisscrossing her back.

Then she spoke up. "Jack?" Her voice was weak, hoarse.

"Renee!" he gasped. "Oh, God, I… How are you?"

"I'm alive," she said. "I'm okay."

That was obviously a lie. The picture from Sayid told the real story, and Jack could plainly hear the pain in Renee's voice. She was injured and in pain. They had been ambushed, almost all of their security escorts were dead and one was clinging to life, and Renee had been kidnapped and beaten. The thought filled Jack with blinding rage.

"You bastard," he growled. "What did you do to her?"

"She is with me, Agent Bauer," Sayid said. "We are in my country, in Iraq."

"You're holding an American citizen against her will, in a country where members of the American military are actively involved in combat operations," Jack reminded him.

Sayid chuckled. "They may be, but this is my homeland, my turf." He was right, Jack thought. He hadn't just seized Renee and hidden her somewhere in Kamistan. He had taken her across the border into an entirely different country, one where he was in familiar territory and in control.

"Why Renee? What do you want with her?"

"Are you familiar with the concept of _Qisas?"_ Sayid asked. "Retaliation. An eye for an eye, if you will."

Jack nodded. "Yes, I know what it is. But _qisas_ means that the family and the heirs of a murder victim have the right to demand the execution of the murderer. That would be me. Renee isn't the one who killed your brother. Why would you take her?"

"Very good, Agent Bauer. You're familiar with Islamic law. Or at least, this portion of it." Sayid sounded surprised and slightly amused. "Killing you would be satisfying, yes, but still not enough. Malik meant a lot to us, and we are now living without him. Since you took someone important from us, I think it is only fair to do the same. Let's say that I am returning the favor."

Jamie had been leaning against the side of the bed, listening to the conversation, and intently watching Jack's face and the monitors next to the bed. He started to speak, but Jack immediately shook his head and motioned to the phone. Letting Sayid know that there were others listening to their conversation did not seem wise.

"I want to talk to Renee," Jack said, deliberately keeping his tone even.

"You've heard from her. That's enough for now."

There was a click, then silence as Sayid ended the call.  
..

**Author's Notes:**

**Qisas and Diyat: ** Islamic law provides two options for someone who is guilty of committing harm or murder. _Qisas_ allows for the offender to be injured or killed, in the same (or similar) way as their victim. And _diyat_ is "blood money", compensation paid by the offender to the victim's family. Of course, forgiveness of the act is also a third option.

**Arabic translation: **Renee calls Sayid a "son of a bitch" (actually, literally, "son of a whore"). Arabic has a lot of very colorful insults and swear words. A lot of them have to do with poop and/or vulgar references to male and female body parts. There's your language lesson for the day - I would strongly suggest NOT using these words to demonstrate your language knowledge. ;-)  
When I wrote and posted my story "No Safe Place", a lot of my readers commented that they enjoyed the little factual tidbits that I shared at the beginning and end of some chapters. Well, here's another one! Most of those had to do with terrorism and criminology. Can't say that I ever thought I'd write an author's note about Arabic swear words! :-)

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	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Renee watched Sayid as he ended the phone call. _I'm okay. _She knew Jack hadn't believed that. The truth was that she was far from it; she was hungry, thirsty, and in pain, and knew it was probably evident in her voice.

_Okay_ was not a word that accurately described either of them, she thought. Jack was clearly weak and injured; she'd heard the pain in his voice too. (Along with fury, she thought, remembering the barely controlled rage in his tone when he had addressed Sayid.) The difference was that he was undoubtedly receiving medical care, and she was in the custody of a madman who was apparently hell-bent on exacting revenge.

Renee's stomach chose that moment to growl audibly. Sayid's lips curved in a slight smile. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," Renee said earnestly.

She had no idea how long it had been since she'd eaten. Khalid had brought her a few cups of water, but no food. The water was never enough to quench her thirst. Her empty stomach had stopped complaining, and the hunger pangs had settled into a dull ache and empty feeling. Her mouth was dry and parched, and her lips were chapped. The room was windowless, so there was no way to mark the passing of time. Every so often, she could faintly hear the _Adhan _echoing through the city to call Muslims to their five times of daily prayer, but she couldn't make out the words. Had she been here for hours? Days?

"Fine," Sayid said. He stepped around her and left the room.

Renee stared at the closed door. _Fine? _What did that mean? _Fine, I'm enjoying your suffering and will let you keep waiting?_ Or _fine, I guess I'll feed you so you don't starve to death before I decide it's time to kill you?_

She lay on her side, looking up at the single bare light bulb on the ceiling. The bulb dangled from a frayed wire that protruded from a hole in the ceiling, directly in the middle of the room. The light flickered every so often, but so far it had stayed on. Renee prayed that it would last. This tiny room was monotonous, but at least it was lit. Being left alone in silence and total darkness would be unbearable.

A lock clicked and the door was pulled open. Renee sat up slightly as Khalid stepped into the room.

She didn't see anything in his hands; no indication that he'd brought her any food or water.

Along with those needs, Renee had become aware of another matter that needed attention. _"Ayna al-hammam?"_ she asked in Arabic, adding in English, "I need to use the toilet. Is there…?"

Khalid jerked his chin towards a pail that had been placed in the opposite corner of the room. "There."

Her body was stiff from lying on the hard concrete floor, and her wounds throbbed. It took effort, and was a slow and awkward process, as Renee rolled onto one side and tried to push herself up on her knees. She flinched in pain as her swollen and bruised left ankle touched the floor.

"_Ana ajooz amra'a,"_ she muttered. "I move like an old woman."

She thought she heard a quiet chuckle from Khalid. The hint of an amused smile tugged at his lips. "Here," he said, coming alongside her. Awkwardly, he supported her as she hobbled over to the bucket in the corner.

"Thank you," she said in English, leaning against the wall and bracing herself. Khalid nodded as he turned away and walked across the small room to give her some privacy. When she finished, he came back to help her move again.

Acting on instinct, hardly aware of what she was doing, fueled by desperation, Renee lunged. One arm wrapped around his neck in a choke hold, the other hand groped for a handful of his shirt fabric, and her right leg shot out to hook around his leg and pull him off balance.

Stunned and surprised, Khalid gasped and struggled briefly.

Renee had extensive training, desperation, and adrenaline on her side. For several frantic moments, it looked like she had the upper hand. But in her weakened injured state, she was no match for him. He jabbed an elbow into her side. That sudden pain threw her off balance enough for Khalid to twist out of her choke hold. Now he had the upper hand. His fist struck her jaw hard, making her head snap back. His shove sent her reeling backwards, and she crashed down to the floor, striking her head on the wall as she fell.

The blow to her head made tears well in her eyes. She landed hard on her back, and nearly passed out from the sudden excruciating pain. Raw whip wounds combined with a hard fall equaled fiery agony. Renee was unable to hold back a scream.

Now Khalid had a pistol in his hand. He knelt above her and jammed the barrel of the gun against her temple. "You had to try once, I suppose," he said. "No real harm done, so I won't tell Sayid. But if you try anything like that again, I swear I'll kill you myself! Understand?"

Still reeling from the pain, Renee could only gasp and nod wordlessly.

"Good." Khalid stood up again and tucked the gun back into the waistband of his pants.

She licked her chapped lips. "Please… can I have some water?" she asked hesitantly, fully expecting him to refuse.

Without saying a word, Khalid opened the door and reached for something in the hallway. He crossed the room again, carrying a cup of water. Renee braced for him to taunt her with it, pour it out, or spill it on her. Instead, he placed it on the floor within her reach.

Ever so carefully, she picked up the cup and brought it to her lips, trying not to spill a single precious drop.

He waited until she had finished drinking, took the cup back, and asked, "Are you hungry?"

Renee blinked, surprised, caught off guard by his sudden shift from threatening to accommodating. "Yes. Very."

"I thought so." Khalid stepped into the hallway again. When he returned this time, he was carrying a plate and spoon. "Here. Eat."

Renee took it. It was a lightweight metal plate, like something from a military rucksack or camping mess kit. There was a piece of pita flatbread, some rice, and a small bowl of what was known as "Arabic salad" – finely chopped tomatoes, cucumber, and onion, mixed with olive oil and lemon juice.

"Thank you," she said gratefully. "I can't remember how long it's been since I ate." She glanced up at him. "I've completely lost track of time. How long have I been here?"

"Two days now," Khalid informed her.

She wolfed down the first few bites, before forcing herself to slow down and eat politely – as politely as one could when they were ravenous.

Khalid watched as she ate, alternating between using the spoon and tearing strips of the pita bread to scoop up the rice and salad. "You like it?" he asked.

Renee nodded. "I do. I was very hungry."

She tore off another piece of the pita bread. "Did you know that a tortilla is sort of like pita, but thinner? So are pancakes and crepes," she said casually. "Have you ever eaten any of those?" Khalid didn't respond. "Have you ever been out of Iraq?"

He shook his head no. "I would like to, some day."

"Where would you go?" Renee asked.

"Jordan or Turkey, maybe," he said.

Renee took another bite of rice.

"Who is Jack Bauer?" Khalid asked. Startled, Renee looked up from her food. "You mumbled his name a few times when you were brought in here, and I've heard Sayid talking. Your husband?"

Renee shook her head. "No, we're not married. He is…" She paused. "A very good friend."

"Your _habibi?"_ Khalid arched an eyebrow, smiling.

Renee laughed. He'd used an affectionate Arabic term for _sweetheart. _"No, not my boyfriend. He's my partner; we work together." That didn't adequately describe what Jack meant to her. _My boyfriend_ wasn't right, and _my good friend_ wasn't enough. "Why are you asking?"

"Because I know Sayid took you to use against Jack, and I wondered why," Khalid said. "You two are important to each other. You love him?"

"Yes," Renee said quietly. "I do. We're not married, but we are very good friends. I do love him." Khalid smiled at that.

That was explanation enough, Renee thought. She didn't dare mention the few brief intimate moments that they had shared. Under Islamic law, that would be _zina,_ unlawful sexual relations between two unmarried people. She had no desire to open that can of worms and give them another reason to torment her.

She cocked her head. "What about you? Do you have a girlfriend? A wife?"

Khalid nodded. "A wife. And a daughter." His response came slowly, as though he were cautiously calculating just how much he wanted to reveal.

Renee smiled. "How old is she?"

"She's four years old. Her name is Amal. Arabic for _hope." _Khalid reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled out a folded photograph.

Renee leaned over to look at the picture. "Oh, she's beautiful."

Someone had lovingly and carefully brushed the little girl's hair, braided it, and clipped a pink barrette in it. She was smiling at the camera, but there were large, dark rings under her eyes. Her face was pale, and lips and fingertips were tinged a dark, dusky blue-gray. Renee wasn't a doctor, but she knew that was a sign of poor circulation and inadequate oxygen levels in the blood, typically from a heart defect.

Khalid's expression darkened. "She's sick. Her heart."

"Can she have surgery?"

He shook his head grimly. "Not here, not in Iraq. Hospitals here are _mu zayn, _not good. And very crowded. For surgery like this, she needs to go to Jordan or Turkey. Sayid pays me well for working for him, and we save everything we can, but we don't have the money for that. And even if the money was there, we haven't been able to get travel documents."

Money flowed steadily between terrorist organizations to finance their operations, Renee thought. Khalid was likely connected to some of those organizations, either directly, or indirectly through his work for Sayid. But none of those funds would go to help a loyal, devoted man save his dying daughter.

"Does Sayid know?" Renee asked.

Khalid nodded. "He knows. He's been able to help me get medicine for her a few times. But he can only do so much."

His expression changed and he stopped talking, as though aware that he'd said too much. The conversation came to an abrupt end.

Renee used the last bit of the pita to scoop up the final few remaining grains of rice and a single stray piece of cucumber.

When she finished, Khalid took the plate and spoon from her.

"_Shukran,"_ Renee said quietly in Arabic as he moved towards the door.

"You're welcome," he answered in English.

The door closed, and the sound of his footsteps faded away.

..

**Author's note:**

An answer to a question that some people have asked about Jack and Renee's relationship.

Yes, they did sleep together in New York. Sometime between the end of that day and when they left on this trip to Kamistan, I guess. :-) In my mind, they also shared some moments in between Season 7 and Season 8 - not necessarily sleeping together, but at least getting to know one another better. I know that time was spent with Jack recovering from the CJD infection and his transplant, but they had to have spent at least SOME time together. There was definitely chemistry there between the two of them. :-)

Renee tells Khalid that Jack is a good friend and she loves him. She doesn't mention the sleeping together/physically intimate part of the relationship, though. Iraq is a Muslim country, and Sayid and his people are Muslim, most likely extremists. Not all Muslims strictly follow the religious _Shar'ia_ law, but extremist groups (like Al Qaeda) do. Under Islamic religious law, Jack and Renee's relationship would be called _"zina"_, which is "unlawful sexual relations" between two unmarried people. That's a crime, and the punishment can be anything from flogging/beating, to death by stoning. Obviously, Renee doesn't need to give them any other reason to torment her!

.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Army Staff Sergeant Caitlin Gibson hung a fresh IV bag on the pole next to the bed and attached it to the line running into Laila Khouri's right arm.

She studied the readings on the glowing monitor screens and nodded, satisfied. It had been an incredibly tense few days, but Laila had slowly become more stable.

Caitlin carefully pulled the blankets down to expose the gauze and tape on her chest and abdomen.

She paused in her inspection of the wound dressings. _What was that?_ Out of the corner of her eye, it had looked like the woman's fingers had moved ever so slightly. Caitlin gently placed her hand on top of Laila's. "Can you hear me?" she asked, first in English, then in Arabic. "Can you squeeze my fingers?" There it was, ever so faint, the slightest pressure against two of her fingers.

Caitlin smiled as she saw Laila's eyelids fluttering. "There you go," she encouraged. "Can you try to open your eyes for me?"

She kept an eye on the vital signs displaying on the monitor, watching for any sign that this was too much stimulation.

Laila's eyes opened ever so slightly, fluttered closed again, then opened wider. She blinked slowly, staring at Caitlin. Her eyes were glassy and slightly unfocused.

Her right hand moved, lifting, searching. Caitlin gently grabbed it as Laila reached towards the ventilator tube protruding from her mouth and the strips of tape holding it in place. "No, I need you to leave that alone."

The woman's lips moved as she tried to mouth something around the tube. Caitlin leaned closer. "What? Can you say it again?"

More slow and groggy blinking. _"Who?"_ Laila mouthed silently.

"My name is Caitlin. You're in Iraq, in the hospital on Joint Base Balad, under the care of the US military. You're safe."

Laila nodded ever so slightly.

Her hand drifted towards the ventilator tube, then back to her side. _"What?"_

"You have a tube in your mouth, down your throat, to help you breathe," Caitlin told her. "A machine is breathing for you right now. We'll remove it once you're stronger and doing better."

Another nod.

"You were very badly injured," Caitlin said carefully, watching her face for a reaction. "You've been unconscious since you were brought in here. It's very good to see you awake."

Laila's heart rate increased slightly on the monitor. Forming full sentences took far too much mental and physical effort, so she settled for saying, _"Kamistan. Attack. Explosion."_ A long pause, then she slowly added, _"Others okay?"_

An assortment of strong medications were dripping through her IV line. Even as she spoke, Caitlin could see her eyelids drooping and her body relaxing. "Looks like you're drifting off again," she said with a small smile. "I think that's enough for now. I didn't expect you to be so alert, so soon." She gently patted Laila's arm and made eye contact with her. "Your body needs to rest. Go back to sleep for now. I promise, someone will answer your questions when you wake up."

Laila didn't resist. Her eyes slowly closed and she drifted back into a drug-induced slumber.

..


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Renee sighed as she shifted position on the floor, trying to find a position that was slightly more comfortable.

The effort was futile.

Lying on her back was impossible, thanks to the deep wounds and shredded skin. The torn fabric of her shirt stuck to the wounds, adhered by dried blood, and any movement brought fresh pain and more oozing blood.

That left her stomach and sides as the only options. There was a constant, persistent pain in her ribs on the right side that didn't help matters. The concrete floor was hard and unyielding, pressing uncomfortably against her body, and she could only lie on one side for so long before it began to ache. Then it would be time to slowly and awkwardly roll over to the other side, or onto her stomach – movements which invariably caused her shirt to shift, pulling at the wounds on her back, and bringing more pain.

Groaning, Renee pushed herself upright into a sitting position, then tried to stand. As she rose up on her knees, a wave of dizziness knocked her off balance. She closed her eyes and sank back down to the floor. _What's this? _Was her body reacting to the lack of food and water? Had they drugged her somehow?

Tentatively, she tried to sit up again. The dizziness was still present, but at least she didn't feel like she was going to suddenly fall flat on her face.

Relieved, she slowly got to her feet. Her left ankle was swollen, bruised, and painful, and so far had refused to support her weight. Keeping one hand on the wall for balance, Renee hobbled over to the bucket in the corner. Mercifully, she managed to use it and clean herself up without losing her balance and falling over.

A flash of color caught her eye. Two blankets had been dropped in a heap on the floor, pushed against the wall. They were thin and worn, but even that would be a small comfort.

She wondered who had brought them. Certainly not Sayid, unless it was part of the mind games that he was playing with her.

As she shook out the blankets, something hit the floor with a muffled thump. Renee pawed through the fabric until her fingers closed around a small, soft, oddly shaped object. It was a cloth doll, apparently handmade, that was small enough to lie in her open hand. The tiny doll was wearing a pale blue _abaya _dress, and her head was draped with a black scarf.

Judging by the dust and blanket fuzz clinging to it, the little doll had been tangled up in the blanket for some time.

She fingered the edge of the scarf as she looked back and forth between the toy and the blankets. Khalid had a daughter. Was he the one who had brought them? Did the doll belong to her?

Smiling slightly, Renee tucked it into her pocket. At least it would be something to look at to break the monotony.

She folded one blanket into a thin pallet, and bunched the remaining one up to form a makeshift pillow. _It's practically as hard as the floor... just fuzzy... sort of like sitting on a really hard peach. _

She breathed a slight laugh and shook her head. _Where did _that _come from? Apparently, captivity and isolation are messing with my mind._

Suddenly, a faint _pop_ came from the light bulb overhead. It abruptly went out, plunging the room into total darkness.

A stifled yelp escaped Renee's lips. There was a tiny line of light filtering in under the bottom of the door, coming from the hallway outside, so at least she had a vague idea of where the door was. Other than that, the room was pitch black and utterly silent.

_Calm down, Renee. It's just dark. Since when are you scared of the dark? _The only sound was her heartbeat pounding in her ears. _Since now,_ she thought desperately. _Sitting in the dark, alone, in a little windowless room, in captivity in Iraq._

**/ / / / /**

She didn't remember falling asleep, but her eyes flew open as she heard footsteps approaching the door. Then came the sound of metal scraping on concrete as the door was pushed open.

"What the…?" a male voice muttered in English.

Renee sat up, startled. That didn't sound like Khalid's voice. "The light went out," she said.

"I can see that," the man replied. Renee heard footsteps as he moved further into the room. "Damn, it's dark in here."

She snorted. _Tell me about it. _

Suddenly, a beam of light flared to life. "That's better." The man was holding a small tactical flashlight. Renee squinted and held up a hand to shield her eyes when the light pointed in her direction. She could only imagine what she must look like, especially when lit up by a single flashlight beam in a dark room.

"Where's Khalid?" she asked hesitantly. "Who are you?"

"Khalid isn't here," the man informed her. "His daughter's sick; he's taking care of her. Sayid decided to have me bring you some food instead of letting you go hungry."

He bent down and placed the little flashlight on the floor, standing it up on its tail to cast light around the room. Even that shadowy, dim glow was better than total darkness. Gratefully, Renee moved closer to the light.

She cocked her head. "Your accent... are you American? What's your name?"

"Not important," he said curtly. "Don't ask so many questions. You want to eat or not?"

She nodded. "Yes, please."

"Thought so." The man ducked out of the room, then returned carrying a plate. "Here."

Renee glanced up at him as she reached for the tin plate. He was tall, well-built, and had auburn hair, hazel eyes, and a small crescent-shaped scar under his left eye. As she looked at his face, she nearly dropped the plate in shock and surprise. "You're… I know you. My God. You're Matthew Reed."

He stiffened and drew back, startled. "How do you know that?"

"I've seen your picture. So have a lot of other people. A member of the American military who disappears into thin air during combat operations in a foreign country is significant, you know," Renee said dryly. "You've been missing for almost four years. You disappeared during an ambush and firefight. They thought you had been killed. Or, since no remains were found, seized and taken captive by the enemy. Your status is listed as 'Missing/Captured.' "

"Captured? No, no." He breathed a harsh, mirthless laugh. "Disappeared into thin air, huh? Like a ghost. Appropriate, considering that Matthew Reed is dead. My wife and little boy died, and that part of me died with them."

"So the part of you that's left is a deserter, then? You weren't captured. You decided to turn your back on your brothers in arms."

Matthew Reed shook his head vehemently. "I'm _not_ a deserter. I don't turn my back on causes that I believe in. Then I was fighting for the wrong side, bearing the arms of the enemy. Life is too short to spend it supporting lies and misguided ideas."

"So you decided to convert to Islam and join the ranks of radical terrorist groups?" Renee raised an eyebrow. "Like Adam Gadahn, John Walker Lindh, and Ryan G. Anderson?"

Reed snorted. "Anderson is an incompetent wannabe spy who screwed up and got himself arrested before he could accomplish anything. Gadahn is a media puppet, not a soldier. He's Al Qaeda's video producer and spokesman; he's never fought in battle. And Lindh _was_ a fighter, but surrendered to the Afghan ANA, then got himself shot and captured by US forces. No, I'm not like them at all." He shook his head. "The other difference is that I didn't convert to Islam. I'm not a radical fundamentalist fighting for religion."

"What _are_ you fighting for, then? A mercenary without a cause, working for whoever will pay you?"

He frowned. "I came to bring you food, not explain myself to you. If you're not going to eat, I'll take that and leave."

Renee shook her head. "No, no, I'll eat it." She turned her attention to the plate. It held a chunk of pita that had been torn in half, hummus drizzled with olive oil, and a small bowl containing slices of tomato and cucumber.

Reed leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms, standing silently, watching her eat. When she finished, he took the empty plate and handed her a cup of water.

"Thank you."

He nodded curtly, not saying anything, and turned to leave.

"Wait," Renee said as he moved to pick up the flashlight. "Can… can you leave that here? Please?"

"Why? Scared of the dark?"

"Ordinarily, no," she shot back. "Alone in a windowless room, being held captive somewhere in Iraq, yes."

"Fair enough," he agreed. "Fine. I'll leave it."

**/ / / / / **

Matthew Reed hurried down the hallway, his mind racing. He rounded a corner, and nearly collided with Sayid.

"Did you take the food to Agent Walker?" Sayid asked.

Reed nodded. "Yes. She was hungry."

Sayid shrugged. "She's not going to starve to death."

Reed gripped his arm. "She knows me," he blurted. "She called me by name. When I came in, she recognized my accent and asked if I was American. Then when I handed her the food, she looked at me and said, 'I know you. You're Matthew Reed.' " He struggled to keep his voice down. "If word gets out, there will be all sorts of people after me."

Sayid shrugged again, unconcerned.

"No one knows you're here. As far as the government knows, you're either being held captive in some remote location, or your body is rotting in a shallow grave somewhere in the desert. And Agent Walker won't be a problem." He scoffed. "How would word get out? Who is she going to tell? She won't be able to escape, and if by some miracle she did, she wouldn't get far." He met Reed's gaze. "Just calm down. There won't be a problem."

..


End file.
